


Zinn, Avenger of blood

by Ralph877



Category: Dragon Age, Fantasy - Fandom, Medieval - Fandom
Genre: Blood, Fanfiction, Foul language(Cursing), Mature descriptions, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-30
Updated: 2012-05-30
Packaged: 2017-11-06 07:52:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/416508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ralph877/pseuds/Ralph877
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a young lad, Zinn Nefazen and his older brother. Arthrex lived in the slums of Denerim, in the lands of Ferelden. Capturing the eye of the Tiern of Highever, Bryce Cousland, the two boys were scooped up, and made one of the Cousland family, pracitcally. Becoming very close to Fergus, younger then Arthrex, yet older then himself, Zinn opened up to prove himself a funnyman and a prankster, helping Fergus with many hair-greying pranks. One eve however, the now 21 year old Rogue, practically Assassin, has his world turned upside down, as tensions rise, Darkspawn march, and Grey Wardens send out the call for aid, to do the dirty, yet dutiful work of Ferelden. And possibly risk losing everything he's known.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Zinn, Avenger of blood

**Author's Note:**

> Some dialog has been taken Directly from Dragon Age:Origins, and altered to the slightest degree, I make no profit off this story, and the characters respectively belong to BioWare and EAGames. The only characters I take credit for are Arthrex Nefazen, and Zinn Nefazen-Cousland.

Zinn awoke, within a tangle of silk and cloth, awakened by a loud, throbing sound that seemed to shake the whole room. Sitting up, he found that it was the door, accompanied by a guards voice. "M'lord Cousland requests you, Ser Zinn". With a groan, he sat up, and grabed his best silks, adjusting his loincloth, and pulling the tight elaborate fabric over his sparsley muscular, yet powerful legs. _I really hate the formality of calling me "Ser" Zinn_ he grumbled in his mind, opening the rich red blouse and pulling it on, _It's really unnecicary since I'm the castle scout, and soon to be assassin, my brother deserves the title more, captain of the guard he is.._ buttoning up the blouse, he touched the burned marck across his right cheek, under his eye, winding down to his chin, a scar from a street gang he joined. Two more slivers on his left cheek confirmed it. He keep these marks only because the gang still trusted him, and respected that he had a new duty. They were a great help when scouting people down and gathering information.

 

Shaking his head, and dispelling the memories of his colorful past, Zinn pulled on the accompanying vest to his elaborate outfit, and grabbed his cured leather boots, strapping them on firmly. Just for safety, he grabbed the dagger on his bedside table, and strapped it to his belt, before exiting his room, seeing Fergus, his almost brother, in full armor. Surprised, he approached him quickly, just as Fergus noticed him. "Zinn, good thing you're up, father wants you, probably to go scout for Arl Howe's men." Zinn chuckled, grabing Fergus' wrist as he grabed his, in a freindly greeting "Yes well, you know me Fergus, always happy to do my duty if a sculley maid's around. So, whats with the armor? Is there guard training today?" Fergus shaked his head, folding his arms over his broad chest "I'm afraind not, Father's sending me off to war, I'm off to say goodbye to Orianna and Orren. I'll lead the men to Ostagar, and Howe's men will suposedly follow soon after."

 

Zinn blinked, this was news to him. "Are you sure that's wise Fergus? You ARE the sole heir, and me and Arthrex will miss you greatley, you know I love you like a brother." Fergus nodded grimly "I'm sure you do, but we must be ready for the darkspawn in the south, lest I have no castle to return and rule, eh? Besides, I know you'll not touch my wife on pain of death from her mace." Zinn broke out into laughter, Fergus knew him well "Ah, true, anyway, I'll not be keeping you any longer. May the Maker bless your sword, Fergus." Fergus nodded and responded in kind; "May he bless all our blades this time."

 

With a swift turn, Zinn started walking out of the initial bedchambers, pulling the large door open enough to slip out and close it. He walked twoards the throne room, and heard Arl Howe's voice. _Not particuarlly fond of this one. He's got something in his eyes. Sets me off like there's something bad about him._ Nonetheless, Zinn knocked, and entered, putting a fist over his heart, and bowing, before approaching the Tiern. Once the Tiern turned to him, finished with his sentence, Zinn felt comfortable enough to speak. "You summoned me, my liege?" Bryce, a tall man, greyed fully, with an air of respect and duty around him, nodded. His blue eyes looked at Zinn sternly, yet relaxed "Yes, Zinn. This is, as you know, Arl Howe, and I have something rather importaint to discuss with you at this moment." Zin nodded at Howe respectfully, and waited for his instructions, wondering why his lord looked so utterlty serious, if this matter was a task for him. He was no one importaint.

 

Bryce rubbed his forehead, obviously frusterated. "This is going to look bad, but Zinn, while your brothers and I are away, you'll be watching over the throne." Zinn blinked, _Did I just...Hear that right?_ He questioned mentaly, his task and origin of work being questioned, strongly. Gulping slowly, a cold sweat starting, his mouth dry, he spoke up, in a less then usual voice, the only words he could come up with. "Me m'lord? I, um, would assume you would entrust this, ah, task to Fergus, and instead send me into combat. Fergus IS your blood son after all." With a chuckle, Bryce walked over slowly to Zinn, while Howe protested equaly as much Zinn. "Your scout is right old friend, that task would be better suited for your son, not some...Dagger-monger." _Annnd there he goes again_ Zinn complained to himself, _I swear, the only reason he hates me is because his cute lil daughter, Delilah, has taken a fancy to me._

 

Bryce shook his head at Howe, and adressed Zinn again "Our men will not listen to just you, your brother, and I, Zinn. Some extra authority is needed if we are to aid the king properly. You will be left here with your mother to rule the kingdom fairly while we  are gone. And please, do NOT cause an uproar with another hay bomb in the caravans." Zinn smiled sheepishly. That was by far, his best prank. Sacks disguised as chickens in a hay cart, explosions of feather and grain.. But, nonetheless, he had a new task to do, and the Tiern trusted him enough to rule this kingdom. Straightening his back, and pounding a fist over his heart, he replied in kind, "I will do the best to my abilitys, within the extent of my less then royal blood, and without faltering into pranks to command attention or authority, My liege," hoping his response was to the standars of his expectaions. With a kind smile, Bryce nodded, "Now that's what I like to hear, my little wolf pup." The use of his nickname ensures Zinn that all is well, and Bryce is pleased.

 

"Zinn, would you please find Fergus? Howe and I have battlefield strategies to discuss. Also, if you see a man named Duncan, send him here please." Zinn nodded, and exited the throne room, sighing. "...Not even the heir and I temporarily assume the throne... Zinn, my boy... Life's hard for you is it not?" He mumbled to himself, before walking off, knowing exactly where to find Fergus. He began to jog, until he bumped into a man, and triped, tumbling into a crouched position. "I'm terribly sorry, Ser. It seems I was not aware young nobles would be running about at this hour." The man turned, and extended his hand, which Zinn took "No, no. My apologies, ser..?" He posed his response as a question, and the man chuckled. "No need for fancy titles, you may call me Duncan.

 

"Duncan? Ah, uhm, Father requested your presence in the throne room! I men ah, not father, my liege Cousland.." The strange man, Duncan, began to chuckle. _Oh, great Zinn, now you've bolloxed it up badly..._ "Dear boy, you need not worry about titles with the Tiern, if you are who I assume. I saw another youth maybe one hand taller then you, dark hair just exit the castle. You two must be the Nefazens, am I not correct? Which one are you?" With a silent, thankful sigh, Zinn noded his head. "I am indeed a Nefazen, in debt to the Couslands for saving us off the streets of Denerim. The darker one is Arthrex, my brother. I am Zinn, the youngest of the three of us- Including Fergus that is, uh. A pleasure to meet you. I hear you are a, um, skilled warrior." Duncan nodded his head. "More skilled then most, Zinn. I am a part of the Grey Wardens. I assume you've haerd of this order?"

 

Zinn gaped at him, almost in disbelief "B-....But they Grey Wardens are ELITE warriors! Why do they grace our humble halls? Are there Darkspawn afoot?" ZInn had payed atention to the old sage's legends, and finds himself in utmost respect for this man.


End file.
